On my first visit to NYC after knowing I would move here, I marveled at the anomaly of crossing paths with an old friend on the anonymous streets of NYC. But since moving, I’ve slowly seen my path fill with faces I recognize, and who recognize me. I was wrong to assume NYC would feel anonymous.
Today, my face was covered with a bandana and sunglasses. I felt anonymous again, in the silly patterned sweatpants from Granny I was using as ‘scrubs’ for lab, and pink sneakers clashing with an orange raincoat. But when I returned from lab, waving hello to Larry the doorman, my third “Hi Emily” of the day removed, for the third time, my assumption of NYC anonymity.